Dust Off Your Highest Hopes
by notalone91
Summary: All I know is pouring rain and everything has changed. / Richie Tozier thinks rain is romantic, apparently. Eddie Kaspbrak thinks Richie Tozier is romantic, apparently. (Language, A Couple Obscene Gestures, One Male Butt, and a heated Make Out Sesh. Let's say it's an R rating.)


The record-high heat and oppressive humidity had made New York unbearable. With the smell and the grime and the people, Eddie Kaspbrak wanted nothing more than to be out of the early September sun and back home. He could feel the germs congregating on his face as the doorman granted him entrance to the building. The older man simply rolled his eyes at Eddie's quick thank you as he rushed for the elevator and jabbed the button with his elbow. He entered the carriage and counted as he passed each floor. 26. 27. 28. Out of the car. A. B. C. D. E. When he finally reached the 28F and turned the lock, he placed his shoes on the rack by the door and headed immediately for the bathroom to wash the day off.

To Eddie, there was nothing more calming than a good, hot shower, mainly because he loved the sound of falling water. He turned the faucet on and felt instantly at ease. He started procedurally removing his clothes and depositing them in the hamper, already feeling less disgusting. He pulled a fresh towel from the closet and set it on the sink, before letting the steam engulf him. He was still careful not to scrub too hard on the fading scar on his chest, even though it had, truly, healed nicely.

Even with all of his childhood ailments being largely psychosomatic, he now found most of that accumulated knowledge helpful in the year since the Losers Club had had to return to Derry. It was unsurprising that the majority of them had missed a lot of the developments his later teen years had brought, especially considering that only three of them had stayed to finish High School in Derry. Bev went with her aunt in the summer of '89 and never came back. Shortly thereafter, Bill's parents couldn't live with the ghost of Georgie, so they took off to find somewhere to start over. Next went Ben, his dad's job relocating him once more. The beginning of their sophomore year marked Stan's departure. His leaving hit them all the hardest, especially Richie. As they neared the conclusion of their High School years, Richie, Eddie, and Mike had been the only ones left and they'd quickly fallen out of touch with the rest. After graduation, Eddie and Richie had taken off together for who the fuck cares where. They'd begged all year for Mike to come along, but he said no. He couldn't just leave. Someone had to keep an eye on the place. They promised to keep in touch but found that, by the third sunset, they were struggling to remember anything but each other and where they were going. They settled in Hayward, California to work and save up money for college. Their first apartment had been pathetic, small and ramshackle. Eventually, they couldn't remember anything from their past lives, their parents, their homes, nothing. It was a mental fog. But they knew each other. They knew they loved each other. That was what mattered. Eddie eventually chose Stanford and became a Risk Analyst and Richie took communications at Berkeley and eventually found a skyrocketing career in comedy and radio. For 20 years, they knew nothing but happiness and ever-mounting success.

Then Mike called.

Richie was getting ready to go on for a set. Eddie was driving home from work. Richie got sick. Eddie got T-boned. The first thing that they both said was that they'd have to talk to their partner. When Richie showed up at the ER to pick Eddie up, he took his hand and didn't let go until they'd been home for quite a while. He didn't know why he was so terrified of whatever this meant, but the matching scars on both of their hands they had always assumed they received together but could never remember how seemed suddenly to be indicative of something extremely menacing.

They called Mike back about halfway through the drive to Derry from the airport. The man seemed utterly shocked when he heard both of their voices coming through the speaker. "Wait, do you guys remember each other?" he asked.

Eyes wide, Eddie realized that, just maybe, appearing as a couple wouldn't be the best bet. "I mean, we were basically college roommates and we never fell out of touch. I thought you'd have remembered that since you seem to remember everything else," he snarked.

With an imploring glance from Eddie, Richie added: "I keep him around so I have access to his mother." He had no idea why he'd said that, but it just felt like something the Richie he needed to be to survive Derry would have said.

Mike shook his head, bewildered. He'd have to ask them some more questions as their memories came back a little more because what ELSE had he missed? He didn't lose any memories, so this definitely couldn't have been happening then.

When all was said and done and It was defeated, they decided that they didn't want to be so far away from everyone else. Bill, who'd wound up in L.A. as well, planned to relocate to New York for a while and, knowing that Ben and Bev were there, too, they'd chosen that as their landing pad. "The city that never sleeps sounds like a great place for two old queens with unrelenting nightmares, don't you think, Eds?" Richie had suggested the night before Eddie was set to be released from the hospital in Bangor.

"I think that sounds like a plan," Eddie answered, leaning back against him heavily. All he really wanted was to be anywhere that had a bed that wasn't vinyl and foam rubber that adjusted where they both fit comfortably. It could have been anywhere, but his firm had an office in New York and Richie could work from practically anywhere, but cities were easier. It made sense.

When Richie finally made it into 28F on that hot, September night, he threw his keys in the bowl and kicked his shoes off by the door. "Eds, you home?" he called out, walking right into the bathroom without so much as knocking.

"Yeah, in the shower," Eddie said, wiping shampoo suds from his eyes.

Richie reached his head in and raised one defined eyebrow above the rim of his glasses. "Want company?" he asked suggestively.

Scrunching up his nose, he leaned toward him, smiling anyway. "Maybe next time," he offered, kissing him gently and laughing as his wet hair sent a smattering of drops across Richie's chest.

"Alright," Richie groaned. "But you're missing out on this," he said, dropping his jeans and underwear to the floor, stepping out of them, and walking across the apartment to their bedroom completely bare-assed, an extra pep in his step for show. Eddie rolled his eyes but secretly hurried through the rest of his routine.

When he finally made his way out into the living room, the doors to the balcony were swung wide and the smell of the rain was filling the apartment in the same way that the music from the bar speaker under the TV was filling the patio with some eclectic Spotify playlist that Richie had put together to occupy his mind waiting for Eddie to get out of one of the litany of surgeries he'd undergone while still in Maine. It was titled with just their initials like the carving Richie had shown him on the kissing bridge. The last strains of Lovesong by The Cure faded out and led into Wouldn't It Be Nice by The Beach Boys, in a terribly Richie specific brand of genre whiplash.

Eddie watched as Richie bobbed to the beat, completely ignorant to the audience from behind him. As the rain soaked through his white t-shirt with the stupid Dixie Cup Jazz design on it and his thin grey sweat pants, causing the fabric to cling to his body, Eddie leaned up against the door frame and smiled. After everything that had gone wrong in their lives, somehow they'd made it back to this point and, yes, he had to admit, it was nice. "Heat and humidity finally lead to a cloud burst?"

"Not the only thing that's ready to burst," Richie laughed, turning back to Eddie and smiling, taking a demonstrative grab at his crotch.

"Nice, Rich," Eddie groaned, not the least bit surprised by the vulgarity. He still crossed his arms and tried to fake a frown. "How old are you, again?"

Laughing at his weak attempt at reproach, Richie bopped over to Eddie and placed his hands on his elbows, trying to tug him out into the rain. "Come dance with me," he whined.

"No," he answered, digging his heels into the mat and curling his toes around the edge of the step to grip against the stronger man's attempts.

Richie managed to wrench his arms unfolded and lace his fingers into Eddie's. "Come on," he said, pouting. Eddie took a step back. "You're no fun!"

"I'm not dancing in the rain!" Eddie called, taking a few more steps back into the apartment.

"Why not?" Richie asked, hopping around in a little circle and shaking his wet hair dramatically.

Eddie's eyes grew wide in exasperation. "Because I'm not getting wet and you can't even dance." He pointed to the taller man's too-long legs and the way they wiggled. He tried very hard not to laugh at his goofy antics but was still dead set on staying out of it.

Pursing his lips and crossing to the doorway, Richie stuck his head inside, bracing his palms on either side of the frame. "Hate to break it to you, Eds," he said matter-of-factly, "but you're already wet." He looked him up and down, indicating the drips from his wet hair all over his shoulders and the tank top he wore, then nodded at the way his athletic pants clung to his thighs, as though he hadn't quite toweled off before putting them on.

"Yeah, because I just got out of the shower, fuckface!" he said, leaning back against the arm of the sofa. "This city is a cesspool and you want me to get it all over me again?"

"Oh, come on, Spagheddie," he groaned, knowing the more nicknames he used, the more likely he was to get his way. "Please?" he said, trilling the pl- into a pw- just like Roger Rabbit.

A beat. Silence and cheesy beach rock. Richie was just about to make his next attempt when the lyrics of the song filtered through Eddie's thick skull. "Fine," he sighed dramatically. "But I swear to God, this is the last time."

Richie wrapped Eddie tightly in his arms and "Bahhh buh bah bah buh bah bah buh buh buh"-d his way horribly through the rest of the song. Eddie leaned up and kissed him, half to shut him up and half because he just couldn't help himself. He was absolutely in love with this gangly Loser.

This gangly Loser was ridiculously adept at forcing him out into the rain for intimate moments. Hell, even the first time either of them admitted their feelings for each other had been very much the same.

"Jesus. A repeat performance of Richie Tozier's All-Dead Rock Show?" Eddie laughed as Richie's car stereo poured their mixtape out into the street in front of the vacant store on a side street on the outskirts of town. He was grateful that, even though no one in their right mind would be out in this rain, they were far enough away from the bulk of Derry's population that they were unlikely to be bothered. That way, they could be as uninhibited as possible and Eddie could even let himself stare at Richie a little longer than he usually did. Stan had been gone for about a week and they'd been frustrated that he hadn't called so they decided to go blow off steam. Mike had had to work, so it was just the two of them in his old beater.

"You know it, babe," Richie laughed, aiming finger guns at Eddie as Morrissey's voice droned around him.

"You're too much," Eddie said, pulling his legs tight under him. He closed his eyes and listened to the gentle patter of raindrops on the ragtop.

"That's what your mother said last night, too," Richie deadpanned.

Eddie laughed, swatting him gently on the leg and letting his hand rest there a little too long. "Pig," he teased. They sat in silence for a couple of minutes, just listening to the radio and unwinding together, then it hit Richie. Eddie's hand was still on his thigh. He cranked the volume and bolted from the car, implying that he just couldn't refrain from dancing to Orchestral Manoeuvers in the Dark. "What the fuck do you call that?" Eddie called out the window.

"Dancing," Richie said, with a dramatic flail.

Eddie blinked twice, wondering what in the ever-loving fuck had just happened. "It's raining," he reminded. Truthfully, Richie was a ball of unbridled chaos on his best days, but something about this afternoon just screamed: "I forgot my Ritalin this morning" to Eddie. All the same, it seemed almost calculated, like he was working his way up to something.

The reality of the moment was that Richie was coming unhinged. He had a secret he could no longer keep. He was in love with his best friend and if he hadn't gotten up then, he probably would have just made a move without saying anything. Dancing in the rain on a cool October day seemed like a suitable distraction. "I noticed," he called back, "Dance with me!"

Eddie blasted an incredulous laugh. "Absolutely not."

"Come on, dickhead," Richie teased, throwing himself around on the curb.

"No," he answered even more emphatically.

"Come on, Eddie-bear," Richie cooed, batting his dark lashes over his deep brown eyes behind those oversized glasses and, fuck, Eddie should not have noticed all of that.

He shook his head, leaning back against the console. "I do not need to get soaked and sick. I'd prefer it if you grew some brains in the cowshit between your ears and did the same," he said, twisting his fingers out the slightly opened window as he came closer.

For the briefest moment, he thought Richie coming closer meant he was getting his way and they might have a chance to talk about whatever the fuck had gotten into him. But this was, of course, Richie Tozier we were talking about. Instead, the car door swung open and Richie reached up and smacked the tattered awning hard so that it soaked Eddie's whole right side. "Now, you're drenched and don't have an excuse." He puffed his chest out triumphantly, offering a hand to Eddie. "Dance with me," he prompted, pulling him out of the car.

"Smartass," Eddie grunted. "I should beat the shit out of you for that." He locked eyes with Richie and his ire melted away. He was so screwed.

Richie, though, was totally oblivious to Eddie's internal conflict. He gave that same charming laugh he always gave when he was convinced he was right. "You won't though. Face it. You love me," he said, draping his long arms over Eddie's shoulders and swaying side to side with him, their chests pressed together. Eddie could hardly breathe. He reached for his inhaler, only to remember that it hadn't been there in ages. Besides, this wasn't asthma. This was panic. His eyes still hadn't left Richie's. "What are you looking at me like that for?" the taller boy asked.

"I love you." He blurted it out and immediately felt lighter. He smiled and let his hands rest on Richie's waist, pulling him tighter.

Richie blinked a few times, trying to process Eddie's words. "What?" He couldn't believe it.

With their bodies so close together, he couldn't let the moment pass. "I'm facing it. I love you." Richie continued to give the blankest expression and Eddie felt the panic begin to return. "Hello? You in there?" He asked. He ran his hands up the taller boy's sides and paused when his hands reached his shoulders. He shook him playfully. "Ground Control to Major Richie." Richie opened his mouth as though he was going to respond, then didn't, leaving his mouth hung into a surprised o. Eddie felt the last strain of his confidence flee. "Oh. Okay. I thought…" He backed up and watched Richie's arms fall limp at his sides. "I thought maybe…" He let his words fall silent. It didn't really matter what he thought. He was an idiot and he'd just fucked things up royally with his best friend. "Nevermind, then. I'll see you Monday. I guess." He turned quickly on his heel and took off across the street, toward Derry's main drag and home, cursing himself again and again for being so stupid.

Richie stood there for another moment until Eddie was almost out of sight. He'd just said he loved him. And there he goes, the love of his life. Shit, there he goes! "Eddie," he called out taking off following the same path he had. "Eds!" He yelled once more, following him across the street and onto the side street where Bev used to live. "Eds, wait!" He finally caught up to him and grabbed his hand. "What was I supposed to do, huh?" he asked.

"Forget it, Richie," Eddie moaned, trying to wrench his wrist free of Richie's grasp.

No such luck. Eddie had just said he loved him and Richie was never going to let go that easy. "Eds, come on! Give a guy a minute to process!" He turned him around forcefully so they were once more face to face. Despite the raindrops splattering all over his face, he could see that he'd been crying. Richie felt as though the wind had been knocked out of him. He'd never have done anything to make him cry and now all he wanted to do was fix it. "Jesus, you throw everything I've wanted for years into my lap and then split? What the hell, man!" He reached up and placed his hand along the side of Eddie's neck. "I needed to make sure you weren't just fucking with me."

The taller boy's words whirled in Eddie's mind. "Everything you-"

"Everything I want," he repeated, spying the confusion in his eyes. "You. I want you." He ran his thumb gently over the curve of his jaw. "I love you. I've loved you all along, asshole."

Eddie's eyes went wide again. "Now who's fucking with who?" he chirped, not appreciating being teased.

Scoffing at Eddie, Richie pulled him closer, letting the hand that had previously been restraining his wrist move inward to his hip. "Do you think, after the number of times I made you go see Streets of Fire with me, that I would use this particular moment to fuck with you?" He laughed a little as the rain proceeded to grow heavier, as though underscoring his point.

"I think," Eddie replied quickly, rolling his eyes, "after the number of times I made you go see Dirty Dancing with me, you would use this exact moment to fuck with me." He chewed lightly at his lip and wished with every fiber of his being that he was wrong; that Richie Tozier wasn't being the biggest jerk in the world.

"Do you want me to lock my keys in my car, break into it and drive us out to a lake?" Richie laughed, resting his forehead against Eddie's gently. He lowered his voice to a whisper. "Will you let me kiss you then?"

Squinting the rain from his eyes, Eddie started a befuddled, "Let you-"

His question was cut short by Richie's mouth crashing against his. It was a fairly quick kiss, since they were standing in the middle of the street and all, but Eddie felt as though the world had come to a screeching halt. He had just been kissed by his best friend. They walked back to Richie's car and sat in comfortable silence for a moment, Eddie realizing that he'd have to chastise him later for leaving it open and running in the rain and how likely it was that, if they'd been anywhere but sleepy old Derry, the car probably wouldn't have been there when they'd gotten back. That lecture, though, could wait. His mouth had more important things to do right then.

Just like he wished they still had more important things to do. But then, it had been years, and kissing had given way to more exciting things in time. At that moment, though, Richie was still teasing Eddie into dancing on the balcony. "Oh, I don't believe that for a second," he answered, laughing sharply.

"You should," Eddie said, nodding.

All Richie could do was roll his eyes, as they rocked in slow circles on the patio, drenched. "You fight me on the rain thing every time. Every time. And every time," he made a little sarcastic shocked face that caused his eyebrows to shoot up over the rim of his glasses, "I'm right."

Smiling at the realization that, perhaps he had a point. Still, he had to needle him a bit. It was in his job description, after all. "Oh, you're so sure about that?"

"We've been together for 25 years. Do you think maybe, just maybe, I know you a little bit?" he said, pulling him in closer and wrapping him tightly in his warm arms just as Eddie gave a slight shiver.

He held tightly to Richie, enjoying the closeness. He pressed a gentle kiss into his neck and caught the briefest scent of his cologne. He would never understand how, still, at the end of a day that felt like it was ten thousand degrees outside, Richie could still smell so good. "Alright, prick," he said, shoving off of him and taking his hand. "Come on, let's get inside."

"We're already soaked," Richie suggested, pulling him back to him. "What's a few more minutes?"

Lips drawn into a frown, Eddie shrugged, answering with the first thing that came to his mind. "Walking Pneumonia?" He offered, just as the sky lit up was a deafening thunderclap from just the end of the block causing him to let out a yelp. "Or being struck by lightning. Let's go," he scrambled, heading back for the door.

Still, Richie wasn't done. "No, wait," he said, pulling Eddie back to him once more. He pushed his soaking wet curls back from his eyes and smiled for a moment before kissing him. This time, their kiss lasted much longer than the first. Eddie hummed a little against Richie's mouth, nipping at his lower lip and pulling it between his. After they'd had an additional song's worth of kissing, Richie finally let go and smiled, grabbing a fistful of Eddie's ass playfully.

The couple went back inside, rainwater dripping across the apartment as they made their way to their bedroom. Richie tugged his shirt off over his head then whipped Eddie with it playfully before walking closer to him. He said he's hands underneath the hem of his shirt and smiled mischievously, tugging it off of him and kissing him on the cheek. They went about changing into dry clothes and then curled up in bed watching some cheesy reality show.

This was always Richie's favorite part of his day. One particularly rough day, just after they'd moved to New York, he'd made an offhand comment about the way Eddie's body fit with his and, much to his surprise, instead of a dirty joke or a jab at his demeanor, he received simply a gentle kiss as Eddie leaned in closer, exaggerating the way Richie's arm draped around him.

After coming so close to losing the love of his life, he found himself rather unwilling to let it happen again. That afternoon, warm and safe from the rain, he decided that he had to do it. "So, I did kind of want to talk to you about something," Richie rambled, leaning forward to sit cross legged across from Eddie. As soon as he'd started talking, Eddie flinched, instinctively worried. "No, nothing bad, I swear," he clarified, slipping his hands into Eddie's. "God. I don't know." He shook his head, almost as though he was trying to shake the words into place. "So, do you remember how, when you were in the hospital last year it was really hard for us to convince the hospital to let me stay and to give me information and…"

"And that you turned into an insufferable psychopath for a solid month?" Eddie said, finishing his sentence. When Richie let out an indignant laugh, he threw his hands in the air. "Hey, Mike's words, not mine."

Leaning forward, Richie rubbed gently at his palms, not trusting himself to not cry if he looked at Eddie. "Yeah, well, you were in a fucking medically induced coma for a month, Eds! And then had, what, a dozen more surgeries after? I think I deserve a little bit of slack for not going completely off the rails."

Truthfully, he knew that wasn't the case. He had lost it. He had absolutely lost it. The mere sight of Eddie injured had upended his existence. He was ready to let himself stay in that tunnel for however long it took. Richie Tozier was not about to live without Eddie Kaspbrak. When he nearly ripped the orderly at the hospital's head clear off her shoulders for telling him that visiting hours were over. Mike calmly managed to get her to come back later. Richie wrapped Eddie carefully in his arms, expertly avoiding the I.V. and breathing tube and pressed a kiss to his temple. He carefully swayed back and forth, willing his thoughts to disrupt his sleep. Mike eyed him cautiously as his heart broke for Richie. He sat in the chair by the bed and asked, once more, for him to tell him everything. And he did. Words poured from Richie's lips and he sobbed and sobbed. Eddie was his whole world and there was no more denying it to the Losers. In reality, he was surprised no one had said anything sooner. To people who didn't at least assume, he must have seemed like a total fucking basket case. Mike had been so patient and, while not necessarily comforting- because nothing would have been comforting at that moment short of Eddie waking up and nagging him about how many germs are in hospitals and pulling him for the door, he was there.

"Mike," Richie had groaned, "we've been together for as long as either of us can remember. When you did your little Google Deep Dive to find my number, did you not find all of the red carpet pictures of us together or a single interview where I mention Eddie? Even though we couldn't actually be for over half the time we were together, we'd adjusted to being an old married couple by… God, forever. It must have been so obvious," he laughed through the tears he was sure would never stop falling.

He remembered, now, how much Mike understood. He could remember the look on his face when Bill left, now. The way they'd spent the week before he moved wandering off alone. There was definitely something there. Not that he'd ever have pushed. Mike was a much more private person than he had ever been.

Nevertheless, the small quirk of Eddie's eyebrow dared him to continue trying to convince him he was stoic and sane at that time. He folded quickly, backtracking, "Okay, not going completely off the rails once all was said and done and you were in a hospital bed, awake, and relatively safe, all things considered." Eddie gave a soft smile and kissed the back of his hand to calm the rambling. Richie took a deep breath and gripped his hand a little firmer. "So, I was thinking, maybe we should do something to make this more official?"

"Like what? I can't think of anything more "official" than what we are now," Eddie asked, leaning back against the headboard and tugging Richie down on top of him. "We're in love. We've lived together for 23 years. You brought me back from the brink of death." Richie rolled his eyes and pressed a kiss to his chest and resting his head there. Eddie ran his fingers through the unkempt mess of curls on top of Richie's head, smiling fondly. He knew that, since Derry, sometimes it helped him to feel his heartbeat, like he needed it to be there to believe it wasn't a dream. "And I'm not planning on getting impaled by a demon clown thing anytime soon." No response. Eddie had expected at least an unamused huff. He tilted Richie's head a little so he could look him in the eyes. "What are you worried about?"

They locked eyes and the whole cheesy speech, full of raunchy jokes and sentimental anecdotes Richie had been working on for weeks flew out of his mind. Recently, memory lapses were jokingly called "The Derry Effect" between them. This wasn't "The Derry Effect." This was "The Eddie Kaspbrak Effect." The breathless, mystifying way Eddie left him feeling had carried through since they were 11 and he dragged him across his mother's house to make him wash his hands before they shared popcorn out of the same bowl. "Marry me."

Eddie blinked rapidly, sitting up straight. He thought he must have misheard him. "What?"

"Marry me," Richie repeated, sitting bolt upright, turning to face him. "I love you, Eddie, and I know that we don't need that security blanket of legal ties and arbitrary paperwork. I know that we're not going anywhere. Still, I think, it might be nice to have that stupid little certificate so that the next time some old bat decides that what we have doesn't count we have that to throw at her." He clasped their hands together and bounced a little, looking every bit his 17 year old self on another rainy day the summer before their senior year when he'd nervously but enthusiastically suggested that they take a gap year and move anywhere but Derry, a fact which Eddie would have taken the opportunity to point out that he could remember so clearly now where he not too stunned to speak. "Besides, I think this hand might look nice with a ring on it," Richie said, lifting Eddie's left hand and kissing it demonstratively. He took a deep breath to steady himself. "I want to be your husband. I want you to be my husband." His rambling went unanswered. Eddie stared at him in a daze. Richie's heart hammered away in his chest. After a few seconds that felt like years, he flopped dramatically onto his side, covering his face with his arms. "Come on, don't leave me hanging here," he laughed. He hadn't prepared for the ever-growing possibility that Eddie might actually say no.

When he could finally manage to put thoughts together, Eddie crawled over top of him and kissed him gently. He leaned in close and said the first thing that came to his mind. "I love you."

Before he could kiss him again, Richie gave a little nervous sigh. He brought his hand up to the hem of Eddie's shirt and toyed with it. "Why does it feel like there's a 'but' coming?" he asked, swallowing the sudden swirl rush of fear that swept over him. It was lucky for him that they'd already handled the clown because this moment alone would have given him enough food for another 27 years.

"Wishful thinking?" Eddie joked, sliding his hands under Richie and playfully grabbing his ass.

"Come on," he whined. Richie needed an answer or he might just shrink away into a piece of dust to be vacuumed up later. Tears began to prick at the corners of his eyes as he moved his hand to rest at Eddie's waist.

Eddie shook his head, his own eyes beginning to shine a little bit, too. "No 'but'. Give a guy a minute to process," he laughed, thumbing the wetness from Richie's face. "Just I love you," he said, voice steady and sure. He'd expected if this day ever came that he'd be shaky and excited and nervous like everyone else he'd ever met. Every engagement he'd ever seen. Hell, when Ben had proposed to Bev she had nearly put her answer out in morse code she'd been shaking so badly. This was different. This was right. There was nothing to be nervous about. They were grown-ups and still crazy in love after all these years. "Yes," he nodded, resting his hands flat on Richie's chest. "Of course, yes."

As the realization that Eddie had really said yes dawned on him, Richie leaned forward and pulled his fiancé closer to him, kissing him passionately.

One kiss turned into a makeout session to rival the ones they'd had when they were teenagers and every sensation was fresh and new. Ever the one to take charge, Richie pushed Eddie flat onto his back and climbed on top of him. After a while, Richie smiled deliberately into a kiss and Eddie was fully prepared for him to start progressing toward much more adult activities, even hitching his hips a little, expectantly. Instead, he pulled back in shock. He rocked backward, kneeling over him. "Holy shit," he gasped.

"What?" Eddie asked, scanning Richie's face and then the room for what could have caused the break. "What is it?"

"I just…" Richie gave a pant of a laugh, then reached down to caress Eddie's cheek. "I never thought I'd actually be marrying you."

Eddie kissed his palm then smiled up at him. "That's really sw-"

"I guess I have to tell your mom it's over," he said, in mock seriousness.

A burst of laughter came from both of the men. "Fucker," Eddie groaned. He pushed him off with a smack.

Richie feigned offense before letting his voice drop suggestively. "Any time," he teased, pulling Eddie closer and trapping him under one of his long legs. Eddie grabbed his face roughly and kissed him, tugging his lower lip between his teeth in a playful reprimand. Richie would certainly be paying for that one tonight.


End file.
